A few weeks ago I promised to write a blog post about Dowsing, and as High Summer approaches, it seems the perfect time to get out the rods and have some Earthy fun. I learned most of what I know about dowsing from a brilliant little book called The Definitive Wee Book on Dowsing: A […]
A few nights ago I dreamed I was in a greasy spoon-style diner in Afghanistan, ordering food at a counter. Where the counter met the wall there was a painted-over vent, and a sign above it said, “The Voice of God Speaks Through Here.” I asked the man taking my order what that meant and
We gotta shift this time paradigm, y’all. I’m beginning to feel like a broken record, because I have done major posts about how we can transform our relationship with Time at least twice before (here and here), but recent confirmation has come my way that has caused me to renew my crusade. At the risk
We have a little saying around here: Disasters of Creative Inspiration and Epic Proportions. Aka, oh my god the house I can’t even. But we’ve talked about that before. The external environment is a mere mirror of the internal chaos. The more in the creative process I am the more disastrous my house appears (to
Light the bale-fires, strike up the fiddles, slip off to the woods . . . Somebody’s got to ensure the bounty of the harvest around here. Except . . . we’re not exactly an agrarian society anymore, though I think we’re making tracks back to that way of being. And about damn time, too. Farmers
Dysfunction can be habit forming. It’s amazing the number of people who continue to suffer because they are afraid that if they resolve old wounds or aren’t in pain anymore, they will no longer be who they are. And in a way, that’s great, because obviously they like who they are and don’t want to
There’s no danger of our lights being turned off, or of us running out of food. Our cars are paid off, and there’s money to have some life once in a while. I have the intense luxury of waking up every morning feeling relaxed, happy and looking forward to a great day. How lucky is that?
I’ve worked hard the last couple of years to make my life a drama-free zone. It hasn’t been easy, and there are long relationships that are tenuous and uncomfortable now, but I’m so much happier for it. Life is hard enough without people who can’t seem to keep their shit together putting their shit-fans on
All hail the Fool, the wild one, the strange one, the one we dismiss . . . the one who seems so lost. Spring is the season of the Fool, definitely. Innocence, new beginnings, being deeply alive. Being so in awe of the return of life–the budding trees, the little flowers popping up, all the
Magic is a troubling topic, largely because it’s so loaded with unrealistic associations. Magic is not flying through the air on broomsticks and turning people into newts. The Lore is rife with stories about just such occurrences, but we have to take them with both a grain of salt and an open mind. Here’s what
